


Nocturnal Admissions

by lilsherlockian1975



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Molly's just too awesome, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3141023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out innocent enough, he just needed his bolt hole... then things get a little uncomfortable. -one shot-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturnal Admissions

**Author's Note:**

> First time here, although I've posted several stories on FF. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also just a note, bold: text messages - italics: inner thoughts.

The night started out innocent enough... he just needed his bolt hole.  A long case and a truly pointless fight with John had led Sherlock to Molly's flat instead of Baker Street.

 

The case should have been simple but it had taken far longer than anticipated and Sherlock had barely slept during the whole ordeal, which led to the fight. John wasn't happy about being kept from his wife and daughter so much longer than he thought necessary and felt the need to take it out on his best friend who was at his wits end with hunger and sleep deprivation. John called Sherlock a _fucking machine_ , Sherlock chided John's lack of originality and choice of jumpers. The whole thing escalated from there and the cabby threatened to take them to Scotland Yard rather than to their warm beds if they didn't quit their 'little lovers spat'. Sherlock couldn't even blame the man, they sounded ridiculous, arguing like an old married couple. He was so tired when John got out of the cab he gave Molly's address instead of Baker Street because it was significantly closer and he knew she had an overnight shift at the morgue. He could collapse and sleep until 9am, she would be home at 9:35.

 

When he used his spare key and let himself into her flat he was welcomed by a stretching, purring Toby. Sherlock would never admit it to a living soul but he quite liked the feline. He went to the kitchen fed Toby, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and looked for something to eat. After a few minutes of rummaging he settled on toast. He made it, ate it and went to Molly's one and only bedroom.

 

The room was very dark, darker than it should have been. If he had been his usual self that would have been a clue... but he wasn't and he didn't notice. So Sherlock stripped, _right down to his pants._ He had set an alarm on his phone for 9am while he was eating so he'd be up and gone by the time Molly was home. He was ready to sleep comfortably. He went to the far side of be bed because his bed faces the other way and well, it was a little disconcerting, he like to be oriented correctly. He laid down and was asleep before he was completely covered with the sheet.

 

Of course none of this would be at all interesting, unless... Molly Hooper was sleeping right next to Sherlock Holmes.

 

Molly may be small, she may have tiny hands and petite features but she didn't consider herself fragile. She had not fainted once during med school, never vomited at the sight of blood. However, the body that had been wheeled into her morgue tonight brought Molly to her knees. She was the spitting image of her mother. Her mother who had died nine months prior. The moment she unzipped the bag Molly lost it, she also lost the contents of her stomach and cried until she heaved. Mike found her twenty minutes later. He sent her home with some strong nerve pills and instructions to take the following day off (and more if she needed it.) When she got home she brushed her teeth (twice) cried some more, fed Toby, took the pills and long hot shower. She pulled the blinds so she could sleep late in the morning and then collapsed in bed with out even dressing.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock was having one of _those_ dreams again... Molly... her warm naked body pressed firmly against his. His arms wrapped tightly around her. He could smell her. Lemons. Honey. Molly. Mmmm. Molly. He buried his nose in her neck. _God this is a realistic dream, better than usual._ She moaned and wiggled her bum against his growing erection. He kissed her neck, and hummed. Her hair was damp. He ran his hand down her hip and pulled her closer. Then reached up and palmed her breast, she moved again grinding into his pelvis. He stroked his fingers through her heated mound. She sighed.

 

Molly was having one of _those_ dreams again... Sherlock... his hard naked body pressed firmly against her back. She could feel his erection, he kissed her neck, he pulled her closer. She was grinding into his cock... his fingers slipped inside her and...

 

"Sherlock, oh God!"

 

Sherlock opened his eyes to find a naked moaning Molly Hooper in his arms... and his hand... _Oh my God I'm fingering Molly Hooper!_

 

"Oh, no don't stop!" Molly said because he had, of course stopped, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do about his current predicament. _Is she still asleep? Dreaming? Awake? Oh no, she'd be too embarrassed to wake up like this. So what do I do?_

 

"Oh, Sherlock, please!" Molly was tugging Sherlock's hand back to her lap. There is no good way to handle this. He tried to get up but Molly had a death grip on his wrist and she tugged him back toward the bed. He slipped and fell on top of her. This of course woke her up.

 

"Sherlock?!" she said to a nearly naked Sherlock who was effectively on top of her with his erection firmly placed on her stomach.

 

"Before you ask... I don't know how we got here," he said as calmly as he could manage.

 

"Okay? Do you know why we're naked?" she asked.

 

"No, um to be fair I _am_ wearing pants..." Sherlock said still not moving.

 

"Okay, so let me try another question. Was I just dreaming or were we just..."

 

"Umm, well, it seems... yes?" he answered.

 

"Was that a question?"

 

Sherlock huffed. "No, it seems..."

 

"Sherlock, you're still um... hard," Molly said blushing so much she was sure that she was glowing in the dark.

 

"Oh, right, I'll just..." Sherlock rolled off of her and the jumped out of bed.

 

Molly sat up in bed covering herself with her sheet. "I-I was..."

 

"It's okay Molly, we needn't ever speak of this again." Sherlock said as he hastily pulled on his clothes. When he was fully clothed he turned back to Molly one more time, she was sitting against her headboard clutching her knees to her chest with a slightly glazed over look in her eyes. "Sleep well Molly." Then made his exit.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock avoided Molly for two weeks. In that time he went from embarrassed to frustrated to impossible. He refused any cases that would take him to St. Barts leading John to ask questions. Sherlock answered by not answering. His mood continued to get worse as the days passed. John grew very curious. He was getting no where with the man himself and since Sherlock was avoiding Barts he decided to check in with Molly and see if she knew what was bothering the consulting dick-head.

 

"Dr. Hooper," John said as he entered the path lab carrying two fresh coffees from Molly's favorite shop. "How are you on this fine day?"

 

"Oh, John! I'm good. How are you?" she replied removing her gloves and taking the offered coffee. "Thank you, what's the occasion?"

 

"Well I haven't seen you in a while since our favorite tantrum throwing detective is avoiding this hospital like it's under quarantine. Any idea why he'd be doing that?"

 

Molly turned a bright shade of red and took a very long drink of her coffee. "Um, I have no idea John. Maybe he's had no reason to come by." She was looking anywhere but at him.

 

"Nooo, he's been turning down any case that would bring him here." He looked at her as she purposefully avoided his eyes. "Molly, you know something. What's going on?"

 

She coughed like she found a bone in her coffee. "N-no John I don't, but if Sherlock's not coming here I'm sure he's got a good reason."

 

"That doesn't even make sense, he practically lives here. What on earth would keep him away?"

 

Molly turned around and put some distance between herself and the doctor. "I don't know John, why don't you ask him?" she said sounding a bit put out.

 

"I did, and his answer was as non-committal as yours." John followed her across the lab. "Molly what's going on?"

 

She quickly turned on him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I have a lot of work to do so if you don't mind," she nearly yelled and pointed to the door.

 

"Okay, Jeeze Molly calm down. I'm just trying to help him. He's been storming around and pouting, which I'm use to. But suddenly he's so depressed, I've never seen him like this before. It's worse then..." He stopped himself. "I didn't mean to upset you Molly. I'll just go." John turned to leave.

 

"John?" He stopped and turned around. "He's depressed?" she asked in a small voice.

 

"Yes, hasn't gotten out of his PJ's and dressing gown in days. Mrs. Hudson says all he does is play that damn violin. Molly if you know anything..."

 

She thought for a moment. Molly was fairly convinced she had been the only one affected by their encounter that night. She was also convinced it had taken place in his sleep, because there was no way Sherlock Holmes would knowingly molest a sleeping woman. She, of course, hadn't stopped thinking about it. First she was mortified by how he had run out. Then she let herself bask in the memories of his hand on her, (that had provided her some interesting _alone time_ ). As the days went by, and Sherlock didn't show up to look at a body or check on his ongoing experiments, she realized he was either too embarrassed or giving her space deal with it. Either way she needed to get over. Sherlock's a friend and colleague and if he was at home, suffering because he felt uncomfortable about using Barts facilities because of her, she'd have to do something about it.

 

"Okay, John. I think I might know what's bothering him. And I'll take care of it."

 

"Thank you Molly, can you go to Baker Street tonight and talk to him? I'm not sure Mrs. Hudson's nerves can take much more of the near constant violin solos," John pleaded.

 

"Of course," she said with a fake smile.

* * *

 

 

Molly decided to walk home instead of taking the Tube, she needed to think. As much as she hated to let John down, she had no intention of going to see Sherlock in person. If John had known her reasoning for not wanting to face the detective, she felt confident he wouldn't blame her. It's not as if she could just walk up to him and say "Hey, no worries about the whole 'finger banging incident' let's get back to analyzing those soil samples, okay?" Molly laughed out-loud causing several heads to turn in her direction. _Great, now I'm the crazy lady that laughs at nothing... Sherlock Holmes has officially made me loopy,_ she thought.

 

Walking through the door to her flat, Molly formulated a plan. It mostly consisted of large amounts of red wine and a long bath but the eventual outcome would be a carefully worded text inquiring as to when Sherlock would be back in the lab. _Perfect._

 

A text message is a bit like Schrodinger's Cat... not following? Try it this way: the message may or may not be received, there for, like the cat, may or may not be 'alive' in a sense. If he doesn't respond she was perfectly willing to except that it had been lost, gone... wherever text messages go to die (there has to be some fraction of messages that didn't make it to the recipient). This was the theory she came up with on her third glass of cheap wine.

 

She dried off, put on her favorite pajamas and settled into bed. Then promptly lost her nerve.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock's fingers ached from the torture he'd been putting them through the last two weeks, but playing his violin was the only thing that offered him any comfort whatsoever. Every time he had the urge to go to Barts or to his bolt hole he picked up the instrument and played. Mrs. Hudson had voiced her opinion on several occasions, he just ignored her and continued to play. He was furious at himself for allowing something like this to distract him. Sexual impulse... it was so... _human_. He'd had many, many dreams staring the doe eyed pathologist. He wasn't in control of them and usually got over the guilt fairly quickly. It took a bit longer, however, when he felt the need to relieve himself and once again he'd picture Molly's face instead of some nameless woman from John's laptop. He had tried to push it away and avoid the act all together, but mind over matter only works for so long in that particular case. Inevitably he'd find himself thinking about Molly, her usual sweet face drawn up in the heat of their shared passion. But now... now he had a whole new set of variables to go along with his once vague fantasies. _No longer vague._

 

He couldn't close his eyes with out seeing her beautiful form under his. He'd start to harden at the memory of his name coming from her sweet lips. He knew how she felt now... his hands couldn't simply forget that. Any attempt to delete the memory had ended with his hand wrapped around his cock calling out her name since in order to delete said memory he had to fully remember it first. The want for more of Molly Hooper was worse than the needle and that scared him more than he'd ever admit. Sherlock knew his behavior was going to raise some red flags but he was doing his best to control his frankly out of control emotions and need. He couldn't be bothered with the people around him. Solve the odd case from the flat, play his violin, and sleep... sleep and dream of Molly.

 

He sighed and put away the instrument then made his way to his bedroom. Laying down, he waited for the memories to flood his overstimulated mind. _Ahh, there they are_. Suddenly his delicious thoughts were interrupted by the ping of his phone.

 

**John came to see me today, he was worried about you-Mxx**

 

Sherlock sat up in bed and stared at the mobile device. Putting aside plans to murder his blogger for another time, he carefully considered his response. For a moment he thought about not responding at all, but scratched that. Molly probably felt self-conscious enough after what happened then two weeks of avoidance.

 

 _Aloof... I'll be my normal aloof self and she'll be none the wiser... perfect,_ he thought.

 

**John's bored and looking for something to worry about. I'm fine, thank you for checking on me Molly-SH**

 

_Why did I say thank you? That was too friendly and not at all aloof._

 

**Good, that's good. I was afraid it might have something to do with what happened that night.-Mxx**

 

_Oh God no! Why did she bring that up? Now I have no choice but to ignore her... no, I have to respond..._

 

But he took too long...

 

**I'm not uncomfortable about it Sherlock, but I understand if you are. I just don't want your work to suffer because of something we weren't even really awake for. These things happen, admittedly not often I'm sure. What I'm trying to say is, I miss you. Please come back-Mxx**

 

Sherlock suddenly heard Molly saying please just like she had that night and he felt the familiar warmth start in his groin. He sat on the edge of his bed trying to get control of his body, now was not the time... before he knew it six minutes had passed and he hadn't answered Molly's rambling yet pleading text.

 

**Everything's fine Molly, I'll be in as soon as a case arises, promise-SH**

 

**Oh that's good to hear. I've kept up on all you're experiments. Been taking notes and checking on them daily. It will be like you were never away. Sleep well Sherlock. See you soon.-Mxx**

 

This time as his brain translated the words and he heard them his her voice, the warmth was felt in his chest instead of his manhood. For some reason it made it much harder to ignore. Sherlock closed his eyes and listened to Molly say the words again... and then again and again.

 

**Do you work tomorrow?-SH**

 

He knew the answer but was suddenly hoping she'd been called for an extra shift.

 

**No, I'm off. Going to lay about for a while, then clean the flat.-Mxx**

 

**Enjoy your day off, goodnight.-SH**

 

Sherlock put his phone on the nightstand and started pacing around the room. He wanted to go get his violin but at the same time he didn't. It suddenly wasn't enough anymore. He ran his hands through his hair and kicked an unfortunately sturdy chair as he passed it. His mind was racing and the walls of his flat were closing in on him, he quickly dressed, grabbed his Belstaff and dashed out.

* * *

 

 

Molly woke up with the strangest feeling. First of all her room was completely dark the blinds were closed and her door shut. It took a moment to work it out but then she realized she could hear someone breathing. Once she was fully awake she reached for her lamp but a hand closed on her wrist before she got to it. She gasped.

 

"It's okay Molly. I didn't mean to frighten you," he said.

 

"Sherlock, what are you doing here? Let me turn the light on, I can't see a thing."

 

"Give your eyes a moment to adjust to the dark," he said releasing her and sitting on the edge of the bed. Molly moved over a bit to give him room. "There are things I need to say and It would be easier in the dark."

 

"Okay, that's fine. Whatever you need," she said as she sat up in the bed and crossed her legs.

 

Sherlock took a deep breath and collected himself. "The other night... no. I can't start there." He took another deep breath. "Molly, you haunt me. Frankly you have for years. I'm not comfortable admitting my weaknesses but you, Molly Hooper are one. The other night when... that happened... I ... now I have an accurate representation of..." He sighed and got up then walked to her bedroom door.

 

He stood there with his back to her, she could barely make him out in the near complete darkness. Molly moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Sherlock? Can I ask a question?"

 

He nodded his head then realized she might not be able to see him. "Yes."

 

"Why is this a bad thing? You know how I feel about you, if you're afraid that my feelings have changed..."

 

He took a step closer. "No, well I wasn't sure until that night. But when you knew it was me even though you were sleeping..."

 

"And drugged, I had taken a pretty strong nerve pill before bed."

 

Sherlock stepped closer and dropped to his knees suddenly forgetting about his anxiety. "Why, what happened? I never figured out why you were home early."

 

"A body came into the morgue, she looked just like my mum. Mike sent me home with the pills."

 

Sherlock put his hands on either side of Molly's face. "I'm so sorry, I should have known."

 

Molly shook her head. "How were you to have known?"

 

"If I hadn't been so preoccupied with my own issues, you and I both know I would have figured that out in about two minutes." He released her. "See, that's why this is a bad thing. I can't even be a good friend with intercourse clouding my mind. It's distracting. I'll get over this, but it will take some time. Please just give me time Molly." He started to get up but Molly put her hands firmly on his shoulders.

 

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're distracted because you simply need ...release?"

 

He huffed. "Not to be indelicate, but I do indeed take care of that need, when it arises."

 

"Yes, that's all well and good and fine. But I mean maybe the problem is that I'm a case that simply needs solving and you can't move on until you do."

 

Sherlock stayed still under her firm hands. What she was offering was unbelievable, but he could never take something like that from her. Asking for her help in the lab was one thing but asking her to... "Molly, you are the most generous human on the planet, but I couldn't do that. You just said that you still have feelings for me, I-I couldn't hurt you Molly. I can't."

 

Molly leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Who says I won't be getting something out of it Sherlock. If you need this, I'll gladly give it. Let me help you." She moved one hand up to his hair and gently kissed his neck. He shivered. "Have you done this before?" Then she resumed her kisses to his neck.

 

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Of course I have, just not in a very long time. Years in fact. Ahh um, uni was the last time." He took hold of Molly's hips. "Molly, I want you. God knows I do, but you are very important to me, ahh... if... you..." He gripped her tighter as she grazed her teeth across his ear.

 

"Sherlock, stop thinking for five seconds and I assure you everything will be okay," she said then to looked him in the eyes, she had adjusted to the dark and his eyes seemed to glow. "May I kiss you Sherlock Holmes?"

 

Their lips were no more than an inch apart when Sherlock let out something akin to a whimper and closed the distance. The kiss wasn't sweet or chased. No, it was all passion and very nearly painful. This was something Sherlock had been keeping inside far too long and Molly quickly realized that she had finally met her sexual match. An unleashed and unfettered Sherlock Holmes was something else entirely. Although he had complete control of the kiss Molly didn't give up entirely as their tongues made play after play for their rightful place in the battle.

 

Sherlock growled and moved his lips to Molly's neck pausing only a moment to catch his breath. "I love the way you smell. I have a whole room dedicated to the smell of you Molly." Breathing her in as his hands made their way up her over sized nightshirt. "Off, this needs to come off," he said as he awkwardly tried to remove the garment. Molly helped and tossed it across the room. Sherlock reached over and turned the light on then sat back on his heals just looking at her.

 

She didn't shy away. The look in his eyes was pure unadulterated appreciation, she had never felt more beautiful in her life. Molly knew she must have a ridiculous smile on her face but she couldn't care enough to stop. "Sherlock," she said and he was pulled out of his reverie. "I'm cold over here."

 

"Oh yes, sorry." He planted himself firmly between her legs and lavished her neck and jaw with kisses working his way back to her mouth stopping just before kissing her lips once again. "I don't deserve what you're giving me Molly."

 

"I think you'll find that you do Sherlock. I find you very much deserving of everything I've ever given you."

 

Sherlock puzzled over her words but Molly, knowing she was about to lose him once again she dug her hands into his hair and pulled him in for another scorching kiss.

 

He gently pushed her back onto the bed towards the pillows and crawled on top of her, his hands roaming trying to commit to memory the topography of her curves. Once again moving to kiss her lower he scraped his teeth across her clavicle causing her to keen up and grind her pelvis into his. He finally reached her perfect light brown peaks and took one in his mouth humming in appreciation as he pinched the other tightly.

 

Molly was panting and calling out for more. No one, none of her previous lovers were ever rough enough. But every time she thought Sherlock was going to pull back and slow things down, he'd bite harder, griped tighter, pulling her deeper into oblivion. She was teetering on the edge and the man was still fully clothed. His hands... _how many did he have?_ They seemed to be touching her everywhere at once. She couldn't take much more.

 

"Sherlock please!"

 

He paused his torturous attention long enough to ask, "Yes? Please what?"

 

"Please... fuck me!" she managed to get out somehow because he had gone right back to work, this time barely touching the tip of his tongue to the underside of her left breast. "Oh, God that feels good."

 

Sherlock laid his face in the middle of her belly and chuckled then nibbled his way down her torso. "I would like to do something first, if you don't mind. It's something I've spent a lot of time thinking about... What does Molly Hooper taste like?" He had made it to her soaking wet knickers and buried his noise in them. "You smell even better here. I'll be expanding that room."

 

He finally took hold of her pants and worked them down then tossed them on the floor. Once again he took his time observing. Molly knew it was part of his process but it was driving her mad. She made an exasperated whine and Sherlock had the nerve to roll his eyes.

 

"I do this once every fifteen years, you can't let me take my time?" he asked peering up between her legs.

 

"Get on with it Holmes!"

 

He laughed as he parted her and ducked down teasing her with the tip of his tongue. "Perfect, better than I imagined. Give me a pillow please."

 

Molly gave him an odd look but handed him the spare pillow nonetheless. He tapped her hips a shoved the pillow under her when she raised them. "Lovely. Spread wider please." Molly obediently spread her legs even wider. "Relax Molly," he said just before he dove in. First he ran his tongue up the length of her ending at her clitoris pausing there for only a moment, not nearly as long as she would have liked. Then he wrapped both arms around her legs and drove his tongue into her opening with more force than should have been possible causing Molly to take dig her nails into his scalp while grinding on his face. It was simply put... _otherworldly_. Suddenly he moved his attention to her clit and sucked it into his mouth while sliding two fingers into her. He switched between sucking, licking and biting until Molly was sure she the abused bundle of nerves would never be the same.

 

She could feel her orgasm building and was on the brink when he stopped. "You are magnificent. Utter perfection. Giving me such a beautiful gift, you stunning woman. Fuck Molly, you taste like heaven. Ready to come?" She nodded and cried out but the words weren't of any language he recognized. He sucked her clit back into his mouth and twisted his fingers back inside her once again. That's when she broke, he felt her close in on him and was soaked with a new release of fluids.

 

Molly gripped the bed sheets in her hands and called out vaguely aware that she should be considering her neighbors but it was a fleeting thought as she felt Sherlock move from the bed and yank the pillow out from under her bum. Her eyes were still closed and she was floating somewhere between worlds, a space she couldn't remember ever being before. She thought she had experienced good sex before, she was wrong. She felt the bed move and he was between her legs once again this time rubbing his cock against her wet folds. _Oh, he finally took off his clothes._

 

"You okay?" he asked kissing her neck. "I was a bit rough. I blame you though. Delicious." Then he kissed her letting her taste for herself.

 

"I'm fine, more please." she said finally coming back to earth.

 

Sherlock raised up kneeling above her. "Molly we can stop, you've already given me more than I could ever deserve. I'd die a happy man if we stopped right now." And even though he was saying this he was still rubbing himself lightly across her.

 

"Sherlock, trust me. I want this and it will not end in heartache." Her smile was reassurance and love and far more trust than anyone should ever have in Sherlock Holmes. It almost broke him.

 

He leaned down and kissed her gently and reverently, it was filled with enough emotion it very nearly brought tears to her eyes. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his well toned back as he took himself in hand and eased into her slowly at first, making it about half way before backing out. Molly bucked up looking for more contact, but as in everything, Sherlock seemed to have a plan. He pumped in once again and Molly dug her nails into his back begging for more, but once again he pulled out. She grunted in frustration. The next time Sherlock thrust into her hard enough to bring her backside off the bed as he bottomed out and she called out to him in approval. He lowered his head to her chest to steady himself and keep from finishing far too early.

 

"Oh my God Molly," he moaned into her breast as he started to pump in earnest. She met him thrust for thrust as their pace increased. "Fuck, I-I can't Molly are you c-close?"

 

"It's okay Sherlock, let go."

 

Sherlock leaned back and took hold of both hips impaling her even harder. "I can't, I don't... want to stop. I don't want this to ever stop. Please, don't make me stop, Molly. Fuck." Molly came hard all around him, then he was coming and crying at the same time. He collapsed on top of her, she folded her arms around the sobbing detective as he heaved and convulsed in aftershocks. He tried to roll off but she wouldn't let him move. "I'm crushing you."

 

"No you're not." She rubbed his back and kissed his head as his crying subsided and he finally rolled to the side. He tried to look ashamed but Molly was having none of it. "Don't, Sherlock."

 

"What's wrong with me?"

 

Molly smiled and stroked his face. "The great detective hasn't figured it out?" He shook his head. "Tonight wasn't just about sexual release Sherlock, it was about emotional release as well." He nodded and looked across the room. "There's something else going on too I think."

 

He looked back to her. "What?"

 

"It took three-fourths a bottle of wine just to work up the nerve to text you tonight. But when you admitted to me that you wanted me sexually I suddenly had the courage to make it happen. Why do you think that's so?"

 

"I wondered about that myself, then you did that thing with your tongue and I stopped caring."

 

Molly giggled then swallowed, _here goes nothing_ , she thought. This was a crucial moment, he was vulnerable but she needed to make him understand. "Sherlock, you're my best friend. I've loved you so long... it almost feels like I didn't really start living until the day you marched into the morgue demanding to see a corpse. I meant it when I said I would gladly give you anything. But think Sherlock. Think about what we are to each other and what we _could_ be. This doesn't have to end. I frankly don't think you want it to anymore than I do." She sighed and looked into his impassive eyes. They betrayed nothing. Molly inched away slightly as to give him room to process her words.

 

He was silent for five full minutes before she decided to make a quick exit to the loo for a bit of clean up. Looking at herself in the mirror she found evidence of their coupling. She stopped in the kitchen for a bottle of water. She steadied herself before going back into the bedroom. Would she find a fully dressed Sherlock Holmes, ready for a hasty retreat. All of her previous confidence seemed to have vanished. As she opened the door she found him exactly where she left him. Not sure how long it would take the man to process the information, Molly decided to get dressed. She was opening her dresser drawer when she felt warm hands gripping her hips. _How did I not hear him?_

 

"What are you doing?" His deep voice literally dripped into her ears.

 

"Getting dressed for bed."

 

"I'd prefer that you sleep in the nude, if it's all the same to you." He peppered her neck with kisses.

 

"Will you be staying?"

 

"Yes, this will do. For now." He palmed both of her breasts at once.

 

"Ohh, what does that mean?"

 

"I think you'll find the accommodations at 221B Baker Street much more comfortable. Not to mention it's closer to Barts." Turning her around and kissing tenderly.

 

"Are you asking me to move in with you after only an hour in my bed?" She smiled.

 

"You made the most convincing argument. Not to mention, I would think our nocturnal activities would be more convenient if we were both living under the same roof." He sucked onto the dark mark that he had previously made.

 

"Ah, so this is all about convenience." She smirked.

 

He pulled back and looked into Molly's big brown eyes. "No, this is because you're right. I don't have the will to fight anymore, this is what we are suppose to be Molly. Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, like I said... it's my first story on this site, so forgive any oddness in the formatting. Still getting use to how things are done. Please let me know what you think, thanks for reading.


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